


Glitter & Gold

by AtmosphericDisruption



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gang Violence, Gang politics, Gangster Graves, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Multi, Percy and Seraphina aggressively not dating, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Smol Nerd Noot, Stupidly charming Percy, World War I and the Wizarding World, bros for life, international politics, who sometimes fall into bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8835670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtmosphericDisruption/pseuds/AtmosphericDisruption
Summary: We are all of us, works in progress. Some of us more than others.The rise and fall of Percival Graves and how the west was won.





	1. Though The Winds Make Take Me

_June 4 1909, M.A.C.U.S.A. Eastern Seaboard Headquarters, Park Row building. New York City, New York._

* * *

 

“What do you mean I’m being transferred!?”

 

Percival hadn’t meant to be so loud but the sheer ridiculousness of the situation seemed to have gotten the better of him. His work had been exemplary, all cases completed in record time and recorded meticulously. There was no fault to be found in his work, he was sure of it. He tried to school his expression into a less offended one, but the blasé look the Head of the DMLE was giving him made it a herculean effort.

 

“Exactly what I said, Graves.” Emile Alaphilippe was a slightly portly man with closely cropped auburn hair, watery brown eyes and a bushy mustache. He had once once cut an impressive figure in his leather coat and silk button downs, but years sitting behind a desk had not been kind to him..

 

The director folded his hands on his desk and looked over his glasses at the young man sitting on the edge of his seat. Auror Graves was broad of shoulder and had not quite lost the gangliness of youth that the best tailored clothes couldn’t hide. His shoulder length hair was pushed back, though whatever he had put in it was losing it’s hold. It kept falling into his face, giving him the look of someone about five years younger even with the beginnings of stubble darkening his cheeks.

 

“You are to report to the Chicago branch in three days. It’s nice enough. Not as fancy as this place, but not much is.” Emile pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked down at the transfer forms on his desk.

 

“You’ve been set up with a nice apartment and a thirty seven percent raise on top of that.”

 

“That’s all well and good, but I am perfectly happy here. In this city. With my team.” Graves ran a frustrated hand through his hair, pushing the fly away strands out of his face. He would get Phina to give him a haircut next time he saw her. Oh Merlin. Did Phina know?

 

Percival glared at the ostentatious oak desk that took up the majority of the office. His eyes slid from its lacquered wood to the crisp stack of parchment that ruined his life. Setting it aflame, while tempting, would hardly help his situation. He instead let his eyes move to the stuffed trophies that blinked slowly at him from their plaques.

 

“And that is part of the problem.” Percival turned his attention back to the director.

 

“How will you grow with no challenges? You’ll stagnate here, Percival.”

 

The director spoke softly in an perfunctory attempt to placate the obviously upset auror. Emile honestly had better things to do than argue with twenty-something upstarts who didn’t know their worth. Even if he wanted to reverse the decision, which he didn’t, it was too late. It was only through the bonds of Aurorship that Graves even got this meeting. Had it been up to the DMS the boy would have simply been sent a letter to go with a box for his things.

 

That Negro female and her pet were becoming a thorn in the department's side, and since there was little cause to dismiss either one of them separating them was the surest way to go. Two and a half years on the squad and they both had broken century long records and upset the natural balance of things. The Graves family had faded into obscurity in the last two generations and a number of people in high places would like to see them stay there. And the less said about Picquery the better. It was high time that they be put in their place. Chicago would break Graves and the loss of her lacky would leave Picquery to choke on her pretty words. An excellent plan, shame he didn’t come up with it himself.

 

“What’s done is done, my boy. Think of this as an opportunity to explore new horizons. I’m sure you must be tired from supping from the same Venus shell* after all, eh?” He chuckled at his own clever joke.

 

A collection of delicate decanters exploded on the bookshelf behind Emile, spraying their amber contents across the floor, the glass shards embedding themselves in the back of his leather wingback.

 

The director looked around his seat in disbelief as his finest drink slipped between the cracks in the floorboards and soaked into the pages of his books. He then turned to the young man sitting before him his mouth open in shock.

 

“I think a change would be good for me after all, sir.”

 

Percival spoke as he watched the brandy dripped slowly from the ceiling.

 

“Are we done here. Director Alaphilippe?”

 

“Y-yes. I do believe we are…” Emile had hardly finishes speaking before Graves swept out of the room, taking his wild magic with him. Well. The Windy City would break him right quick, and after that little display Emile couldn’t wait to grind the pieces of his pride into the dirt.

 

* * *

 

Seraphina Picquery considered herself to be a fearsome yet level headed woman. She took her grits with sugar and her coffee black, she had perfected the art of styling her blonde hair so that it formed a perfect sphere and her amendments to the international defense decree were collecting more backers than she had anticipated. She put up with no ones bullshit and took pleasure in tearing down the bloated braggarts that called themselves her “co-workers”.

 

So when Auror Percival Graves stormed his way to her desk and practically threw himself at her feet in a huff befitting a dissatisfied toddler she took it all in stride. When he dropped his head into her lap she simply put a cushioning charm on the marble floor and went back to work.

 

Her free hand found it's way to Percival’s hair, playing with the dark strands as she drafted a letter to the Ottoman Head of International Relations. She paused briefly, nibbling on the end of her quill. It wouldn't do to come off as too demanding, but she couldn't seem desperate either. If she could sway them to her side then the French and Prussians should follow suit. It wasn't like she needed the entire world on her side, just fifty-one percent would do the trick. There was a tug on her skirt and she looked down to see her companion pulling at the tiny beads she had spent hours painstakingly embroidering into the peacock blue silk.

 

“Stop it. You’re going to ruin it and I’ll be forced to make you sew it back on by hand.” She slapped lightly at the offending limb, ignoring the not so subtle whispers floating around them. One would think that there wasn’t work that needed doing, what will all the chatter.

 

“Ouch.” Percival shifted so that he was looking up at the object of his affections, a charming smile on his face. “You love me too much to punish me so, Phina.” He could feel the tension leaving his shoulders as the waves of her magic brushed against his own, soothing the frayed edges.

 

“You do realize that shit like this is why people think we are an item, Percy.” She chided as she went back to her drafting.

 

“Do you mean to tell me that we aren’t? What about all of those dinners? And the jewelry? Damn it woman, how many other men have you hoodwinked into lavishing attention on you?”

 

“More than you could dare to even count, Auror Graves.”

 

“You wound me, Auror Picquery.”

 

“Somehow, I think you’ll survive.”

 

“No...I’m not sure that I will.” Percival muttered, the smile sliding off his face.

 

Her quill hovered over the parchment as she stopped to look down at the man currently invading her personal space.

 

“What happened, pancake? Who do I need to murder?”

 

Percival had to chuckle at that. “What is with you and this constant need to commit murder, Phina? In case you didn’t realize, you’re an Auror. Murder is the opposite of our job description.”

 

“Stop stalling and answer the question, pet.” Seraphina set aside her quill and vanished the blotches of ink that marred her parchment.

 

“I’m moving. To Chicago.”

 

“Don’t be stupid, we just signed a new lease. And what the hell am I to do with that damn greenhouse* that you simply ‘had to have’? And our cases? We have five active investigations going on. You can’t just up and leave.” The ‘me’ at the end of the sentence went unspoken.

 

“It’s not as if I have any choice in the matter, Phina. Emile told me not twenty minutes ago. I ship out in three days.”  
  


“I’ll kill him. And that piece of shit we call the DMS.”  
  


A privacy charm was quickly put into place. “That’s treason, Phina.”  
  


“I don’t care. This is about our work with the Crow, isn’t it? Those cowardly pieces of dragon shit! Did they think we were going to let them try and lock up the Chief’s son on some trumped up bullshit just so that they could barter for land?!”  
  


“Merlin’s beard, Phina! Calm down will you? I can’t wallow in despair if you keep screeching like that!” Percival pushed himself off of the floor and dusted himself off. “I doubt it is solely because of that. We also arrested the former head of regional trade for selling dragon meat to no-maj canning factories. And then we got the son of the head obliviator for illegal no-maj experimentation. And you blocked Fowlers Being Reclassification effort-”  
  


“It was barbaric! He wanted to reclassify goblins as sub-creatures to-”  
  


“Steal their assets and take control of the banking system in america. I know. I helped you draft the counter, remember? I’m just saying that we haven't exactly kept our heads down, have we?” He waved his hand and the papers on her desk shuffled to the side. Percival seated himself on her now clear ink blotter, the heels of his oxfords clicking against a drawer. He picked up her quill and wound the pheasant feather around his fingers.

“I should think not, pancake*. We didn't in school, why would we here?”  
  


“Don't be obtuse, Phina. It doesn't suit you.”  
  


“Are you saying they are doing it to save their own worthless hides?” She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.  
  


“That's exactly what I'm saying.”  
  


“It won't work. They've only given me more motivation to ruin them.”  
  


‘How does that saying about Hell, fury, and a women scorned go again?’ Percy mused. He could see the deadly gleam in her eyes that only happened when she was planning to eviscerate some poor unsuspecting bastard.  
  


“Yes, but they don't know that.”  
  


“And what about you? Chicago isn't exactly known for it’s welcoming atmosphere.” Seraphina asked, the worry showing unbidden in her voice.  
  


“I can take care of myself.”  
  


“I can't watch your back from across the mountains, Percy.”  
  


“I'll be careful, mother.”  
  


She reached out to smack his thigh.  
  


“I'm being serious!”  
  


“And so am I.” He raised a hand to forestall any more arguments.  
  


“I promise that you won't have to write a letter of condolences to my parents anytime soon, alright? I'll be careful.”  
  


“You had better be, Percival Graves. Don't make me summon you from the dead just so I can kill you again*.” She threatened.  
  


“Honestly, what is with you and murder? Is there something you're not telling me, Phina?”  
  


“I devour the souls of the damned to stay young and beautiful. Or do I bathe in the blood of virgins?”  
  


“No, that was last month. You cut the loins off of men and steal their powers as of last week*.”  
  


“How delightfully barbarous. Speaking of cutting, when are you going to let me fix that mane you call your hair?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Pancake- Their first official meeting ended in the Reigning Queen of the Horned Serpents (RQHS) flipping Percy ass over kettle like a flapjack. He deserved it.   
> *Summoning the dead- It's a family thing. Don't ask.  
> *Eater of Souls- Because no one could naturally be that frightening. Seraphina's backstory changes often and ranges from the sublime to the ridiculous. She makes no effort to disabuse them of these notions.   
> *supping from the same Venus shell- sex joke. ovbiously   
> *that damn greenhouse- Percy has a secret passion for insects. And insects like plants. Thus, the greenhouse is constructed. It's also an excellent place for him to hide, seeing as Seraphina refuses to go in.


	2. What Lies Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet two new players and Percy leaves the nest.

_ June 7, 1909 _

* * *

 

Octavius Severus Delany was one hundred and twenty percent sure that he would not make it past this third week. The transition from the small town of New Philadelphia, Illinois to the hulking city of New York was an unmitigated disaster. For one, it was filthy. Two, there was trash on every corner, human or otherwise, and three the charms on his boots had to be reapplied every two hours at least. And the smell.     
  


The only housing Octavius could find was in a poorly kept tenement with three polish wizards and a surly chechen warlock. None of them spoke english or formally acknowledge his presence past sectioning off his part of the room. They did stare whenever he did magic however, clutching their wands close as if his perceived lack of one was a personal offense.    
  


There were thankfully no insects, but a curious patch of mold seemed to migrate around the edges of the plaster ceiling and the couple in the next room seemed intent on adding another child to their already prodigious brood. But there was working plumbing and the heating charms were steady enough, even if the company left much to be desired. Still, he missed his simple one room house with it’s neat kitchen and private privy. 

 

His MACUSA acceptance letter was worn at the creases due to the constant folding and unfolding. No matter how many times he read over the glossy parchment he couldn’t believe his luck. Him! Octavius! The only child of two blacksmiths, was going to be an auror! His father had wept with joy and his mother had gifted him a fine set of knives when he told them of the news. He missed them. He missed falling asleep curled up in front of the fire place with naught but a cushioning charm, coffee, and a book. He missed the stars and the soothing sounds of the surrounding prairie. But most of all he missed being surrounded by magic and the freedom to step out of his door and not be afraid. 

  
Life in the big city was not as glamourous as he was lead to believe. Octavius spent the first three days in a state of constant anxiety, ducking into gangways and looking over his shoulder before he did even the simplest bit of magic. He learned within the first week that there were many parts of the city he could not safely venture without a notice-me-not charm and establishments he could not patronize. He explored anyway, his guidebook clutched tightly in his hand and his hat firmly on his head. He could do this. In three hours he would report for training and if he survived that? Well, there would be no limit to what he could do. 

 

* * *

 

 

The pullman sleeper car could have been more comfortable Screaming Crow decided as he rose from his seat. Three dollars was a large amount for such substandard stuffing, but the food was edible so he’ll count it as money well spent. He waited patiently for the porter to grab his pack and offered a few silver coins for his assistance. With that done he disembarked, stepping out from the silent confines of his rail car and into the bustle of Grand Central Terminal. 

 

He slung his pack over his shoulder and followed the flow of people out of the platform and into the station proper. Sunlight cut through the haze of tobacco smoke and he wrinkled his nose in distaste, secretly longing to banish the foul stuff from his immediate vicinity. Screaming Crow cut his way through the crowd, using his above average height and sturdy build to his advantage. He paused at the doors and took a deep breath. This was it. The end of an era and the beginning of something new. As boy he had explored every corner of his tribal lands and beyond looking for adventure. He was determined to be more than the son of a chief, he wanted to be a legend. He wanted to make his people proud, and the M.A.C.U.S.A. was a perfect way to start the journey. 

 

He took his first step out of the terminal and took a moment to savour his first sight of New York. It was beautiful. Temples of commerce and trade reached for the sky, their glass windows glinting in the sunlight. The air was thick with noise and the damp smell of rain. Carriages and carts rattled past with the occasional automobile kicking up dirt. His moment was short lived however. Screaming crow felt something, or rather someone run into him and he looked down into a sea of platinum blond curls. 

 

“Pardon me, Miss.” He held his hands up in the universal sigh of surrender just in case she started screaming or something. He had heard that the city folk were quite delicate and prone to fits of hysterics, most likely due to the air and tiny living spaces. It wouldn’t due to cause a scene on his first day. 

 

“Shit. Sorry, love.” The woman took a quick step away, turning so that she was facing him. She was more than a head shorter than him though her hair made up for the difference. Her maroon coat shimmered with a protective layer of magic and he could see the glint of golden thread sewn into the fabric. Definitely a witch then. He couldn't believe his luck.

 

Her dark brown eyes widened as she took him in and her painted lips curled in a lascivious smirk. A Native wizard, how fascinating, most of them stay well out of cities.    
  


“Oh, you could definitely give Percy a run for his money.”

 

Screaming Crow opened his mouth to inquire about this Percy, and why he would need to race for money when a sharply dressed man came dashing across the street, dodging around a delivery cart with one hand clutching a suitcase and the other holding his hat on his head.

 

“Merlin’s beard, Phina! Watch where you’re going, you idiot!”

 

“I’d rather not if it gets me a view like this.” 

 

The man, presumably Percy, stared at Phina, and what a strange name that was, in disbelief. 

 

“I’m done with you.” Percy turned his attention away from the embarrassment that was Seraphina and to the poor man she was currently eyeing. “Percival Graves. And I apologize for my companion's behavior. She doesn’t get out much.” He held out his hand.

 

The wizard, Percival, had a similar web of magic woven about his person. It curled warmly around Screaming Crows wrist as he gave the offered hand a firm shake.   
  
“Screaming Crow. And there is no need to apologize, it is not everyday one meets a goddess in the flesh.”

 

“Oh, Percy! I like him!” Seraphina grinned up at the towering man. He was remarkably handsome with warm brown eyes and a strong nose. Long black hair framed a sturdy jaw and her eyes were drawn to his charming smile. She held out her own hand. “Seraphina Picquery, it’s about time someone recognizes my divinity on sight.”

 

Screaming Crow bent to kiss the back of Seraphina’s hand. “A fitting name for one such as you.” 

 

Seraphina’s cheeks darkened and her smile grew brighter, causing her eyes to sparkle and a giggle to slip out from the normally unflappable witch. Percy couldn’t believe his eyes. Seraphina Piquery, the Ice Queen, the Eater of Souls and Castrator of Men was giggling and bushing like a fifth year school girl. And he wouldn’t even be present to see her make a fool of herself. Damn his luck.

 

“Oh gods. Is this really happening? You don’t even have to grace to send me off before finding my replacement?” Percival huffed even as the smirk on his face belied his tone. 

 

“Shut up, Percy. You got your goodbye this morning.” 

 

“I want another.”

 

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, pancake.” She turned to give Percival a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Travel safe. And send me a letter when you get settled.” 

 

“Everything suits me.” He pulled Seraphina into a one armed hug, tucking his head into her slender neck. “I’ll miss you, Phina. Give them hell for me, won’t you?” 

 

“Of course. As if they deserve anything less.”

 

Screaming Crow studied the iron eagles that stood guard outside the terminal while the two had their moment. 

 

“Now go. You’ll miss your train and then where will you be?” 

 

Percy gave her one last squeeze before stepping back. 

 

“I’ll be seeing you, Phina.” 

 

“Sooner than you think, Percy.”

 

He nodded at Screaming Crow and gave Seraphina one last smile before turning on his heel and  disappearing into the station. 

 

There was a tiny sniff from Seraphina and Screaming Crow looked over to see the woman hurriedly wiping at her eyes. 

 

“Damn it all. I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this.” She gave him shaky smile. “Are you headed anywhere in particular? I mean, it’s none of my business, but I can take you. If you want?” 

 

“It would be foolish to reject such an offer.” He offered Seraphina his arm and he let her lead him away from the station. “I’m headed to M.A.C.U.S.A. headquarters for training. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is?”

 

Warmth blossomed in his chest at her startled laugh. He didn’t know a thing about this witch, but the sound of her laughter was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

  
“As a matter of fact I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed af
> 
> comments and criticisms are welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm in this for the long haul.....fml.


End file.
